The sun had fallen, and night had drifted down after it upon Hadrian, but the multicolored tarpaulins over merchant stalls remained propped up on quirked sticks, even as their backs sagged with exhaustion. Locals and tourists milled about on the dirt road. Harried families, clingy couples and squealing youngsters flock from shop to shop, adding more goods to their already overflowing hands and storing some in their engorged bellies.

Through the gaps over sitting merchants' heads, Meya watched the scene from the shadows behind Old Mother Gelda's tavern, one hand resting on the low fence, absently scratching behind the ears of the snoozing, doomed sow in its pen. A lone cricket chirruped from somewhere in the vegetable patch on her other side, its shrill call keeping time for the steady low hum of the crowd passing by.

A pair of father and daughter entered the stage. The young lass looked not a day above six, with long brown hair that shone like the silk the Tyldornian merchant was advertising, and brown eyes that twinkled in the lights of the roadside torch-lamps. She was leading her Dada along with an eager hand, cherubic lips flapping incessantly as she babbled in excitement about something or other. Her father simply nodded along, his eyes filled with pride and his smile with adoration.

Meya couldn't remember the last time she had an amicable talk with Dad. Perhaps it was too long ago, back when she was too young to recall, back when her heart wasn't yet cold and bitter, when her smile was not yet a sneer. Or perhaps it just never happened. And, thanks to Marin, it might never will.

A wave of resentment surged up from her twisted stomach, and Meya bit hard on her lips to force back rebellious tears, her hand on the pig trembling from the painful effort. The rational part of her knew that it wasn't Marin's fault, that Marin couldn't have possibly intended for this to happen, but then where was this unbidden pain and grief and disappointment supposed to go?

Ever since she saw Dad's name in that letter, she had imagined countless versions of their reunion. Rehearsed her summary of everything that had happened since she left Crosset, and anticipated his reaction to each revision.

Again, Dad was supposed to be here not for her family or for one of her siblings, but for her and her alone. And again, it was like the gods that be had struck down a harsh reminder that that was never to be. That she would never be worthy of even that. No matter what she had achieved or been through.

But should it bother me this much, though? Does whether Dad knew or approved of what I did makes it right? I knew what I did was right. I knew I succeeded. Arinel thought so too. Coris said I should be proud. Gretella and Jerald are on friendly terms with me. Shouldn't that be enough? Why do I not feel enough?

The solution to that conundrum wasn't instantly obvious, so Meya dug deeper to find the answer for herself.

It's not enough because I want Dad to be happy for me, too. I want him to hear good news from me. I want him to know I'm doing fine...well...great.

Familiar heavy, dragging footsteps approached her from the tavern, followed by two more pairs of feet, and Meya allowed herself a mirthless grin, when all went as anticipated.

"Well, that didn't take long."

Deke halted at the sound of her voice, then continued towards her. He stopped once more a little way away, then, after a brief, awkward pause, he began, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Meya, I'm really, really sorry."

"For what? Knocking up my sister and ditching her, or keeping it from me?" Meya retorted without the barest pause. She imagined Deke seizing up in surprise as he breathed, astonished,

"You knew?"

Meya quirked up a wry grin, adding a shrug once she remembered he couldn't see the look on her face,

"You're not that hard to read compared to the folks I've met on the way here." She picked up a frail twig from the dirt ground and spun it between her fingers, continuing after a brief pause, as if she had seen Deke's raised eyebrows through the back of her head. "You flinched every time I badmouthed Marin. I'd be blind if I didn't figure it out."

There was a strained pause as Deke digested that. Finally, he sighed and clomped over to the log Meya was sitting on. Meya steeled herself against the instinct to edge aside and make room for him.

"Well, both." Deke said as he settled down, striving to retain a dignified, somber appearance even as one butt-cheek of his was dangling in mid-air. Solemn brown eyes staring similarly ahead at the bustle before them, he admitted,

"I should have been open about it. But I was afraid you'll get mad. And I shouldn't have been. Because you shouldn't have dangled our friendship over my head like that."

Meya tensed up at that straightforward observation. And now Deke was going to make his choice. Between her and Marin. And it didn't take a brain of Coris's caliber to predict who he would choose.

Meya chanced a glance at Deke, then swiftly turned back when she caught his mouth moving out of the corner of her eye, holding in shivers. But the dreaded ultimatum never came.

"Why do you hate Marin so much, Meya?"

Meya whirled around in surprise. Deke's cold gaze signaling the end of their friendship she had anticipated turned out to be a melancholic, anguished, almost pleading look. Blinking, she turned away once again,

"I don't hate her." She corrected, struggling to explain her complicated feelings towards her sister. She shrugged, "I just...I wish she'd do more with all the blessings Freda bestowed upon her, is all."

"Do what?" Deke's reply was instant. Meya blew out a breath of slight annoyance.

"You know what I mean. She's Diamond Class." Meya turned around, an arm waving about in frustration, "She doesn't need to save up for her dowry. She could've sold all those gifts them idiots piled onto her then bought her freeman permit ages ago. Travel wherever she wants. Marry whomever she wants. Live whatever way she wants. Like that Tricia of Haventoth she so worshiped. How many times has opportunity came to her door on a silver platter and she turned it away? Some at my expense!?"

Meya pressed a hand on her chest in emphasis, wide, glowing eyes glaring at Deke, who hadn't cringed back. His expression had become blank, and his eyes gleamed with defiance like they rarely did before Meya. His voice was flat.

"You wanna know exactly why Marin turned down Terron Neale?"

Meya started, confused and alarmed. For a moment, Deke captured those blinking eyes in his, then turned away and yanked up a blade of tender spring grass, twisting it idly as he went on,

"Marin made me promise at pencil-point never to tell. Well, she could go ahead and stick that up whatever orifice of mine she wants." He tossed the grass away with a vicious flick of his hand, then turned around to glare at the dumbstruck Meya, "I can't let you go around resenting her for the rest of your life, when you don't know diddlysquat about her, despite having lived sixteen years with her."

Deke hissed in her face. Meya simply gawked, her usual battalion of pithy comebacks scattered by shock, as her belief of four years was being shaken to its core. Looking away, Deke began,

"Maro heard the bastard bragging to his friends about how he played the gentle lover to wheedle out stuff on Marin from other girls. Mostly you."

Meya's eyes couldn't have widened any further, but they did. Deke noticed her trembling fist on the log, and took it as a positive sign.

"He told Marin, and she went straight to the tavern and slapped the daylights out of the git."

Meya paled, as the glow of her eyes flickered with tears of shame and guilt, and Deke used the opening to ram his point home. Leaning close, he grasped her wire-taut shoulders and shook them slightly.

"You think she doesn't want to leave Crosset? To be like Tricia? Why d'you think she stayed for this long? Why d'you think she turned down her only chance for freedom? Because being the big sister means sacrifice! For your parents. For you. For Morel and Mistral. That's why she never complained. That's why she never did what she wanted to. Because, unlike you, she's made it a point to never put her own needs before everyone else's!"

A drop of tear was threatening to tumble from Meya's eye, and Deke turned away with a heavy sigh, leaving one hand on her shivering shoulder in consolation, even as he continued with the rebuke.

"You know full well that you could earn more from selling food or embroidery or writings like your sisters. Or singing—Yes, we know you've got the Song." Deke cut across knowingly as Meya whipped around to object, looking straight into Meya's bulging eyes,

"But you insisted on working the fields for half the pay of normal folks, then you break the law so you could earn their rate. You're too proud to use your Song. Too proud to practice the work you've insulted. You insisted your sisters are born blessed, when you know that they just kept doing their stuff after you gave up on the first try."

Meya was still sitting struck dumb, staring at the ground, petrified by the honest and accurate picture of her he had drawn and shown to her.

Yes, despite her appearances, despite her poverty and seeming lack of choices, Meya knew she had always been spoiled. She had always chosen the choice she preferred best, had always stomped tall grass and paved shortcuts where there shouldn't have been any, had always outsmarted laws and wriggled through loopholes for her own gain. Without the slightest thought of the consequences to the people around her. And it was more for that than her glowing, monstrous, eyes that Dad resented her.

It's not the result that matters, Meya. It's your selfishness.

Arinel's voice from the recent, fresh past rang within her, and Meya closed her eyes as her heart weighed with guilt, listening to Deke's labored voice as he concluded,

"Sometimes, you gotta swallow your pride, Meya. Do some things you hate. For the folks you love."

Silence descended, and Meya simply nodded, not wishing to dissipate it just yet. The lone cricket was still chirping, further off now due to the increased activity where they were. Its song was like a warm balm nursing the sores on her heart, and finally, Meya managed to croak out.

"So, this is it, then?" Deke turned, eyebrows raised in confusion. Meya hitched up a bitter smirk, "You gotta go home and marry Marin then raise your babe, don't you? And Marin probably wanna travel someday, so..."

Meya trailed off, flicking idly at the flaking bark of the log. Sighing, Deke squeezed her shoulder and reaffirmed,

"We're still friends, Meya. We just—we all have to do our things someday. We've been over this when you left Crosset. You messed up, so you're banished. I messed up too, and now I got a wife and babe to fend for. It's not like you did anything wrong to me so I'm leaving you. It's not as if we won't be friends no more."

"I know. That's why it's so awful." Meya moaned, dropping her head into her palms and shaking it left and right, "'cause there's nothing I can do about it."

"Same, same." Deke concurred, patting her head in empathy, pointing out things he hoped would cheer her up, "But you've got new friends now. And a new job. And I'm still your best bud. We just...won't be together that much anymore. I'm sorry."

Meya said nothing, but snorted the mucus in her nose back up her sinuses, as a drop of tear swayed on the tip of her button nose. She plunged a hand under the wide collar of her dress (it was proof of their long shared history that Deke didn't blush or cringe), and fished out the tiny lace drawstring bag, the one containing her allowance she had used to incense Morel earlier. Without a word, she held it out to Deke, who took barely a look before backing away, hands raised.

"Meya, no. I can't."

"I'd been meaning to mention it. I'm leaving for Safyre in a few days with Lord Coris and Lady Arinel." Meya sniffed, her voice still thick and her eyes staring ahead as she lied smoothly, "I've got everything I need here. You guys need this more than me."

"But—" Deke was still not backing down. Meya snorted.

"So you're putting your pride before your family's needs?" She turned and met his eyes, raising a skeptical, challenging brow. Deke froze in his tracks, and she laughed at her small triumph as she tucked the bag between his slack fingers and thumb. "This is all I have on my person, but I'll keep sending more. You're part of the family now. Don't overthink it."

She clutched his shoulder then pushed him, as one might a babe's cradle. Deke's eyes reflected the golden gleam as he held the tiny pouch to his chest, then he looked up with a trembling smile,

"Thank you, Meya. So much."

He breathed. Meya smiled back.

"You take care of Marin." She linked her arms around her best friend, now a father, husband-to-be, and her brother-in-law, feeling unavoidably weird about it all. She asked as she drew back, "How far along is she? I'll try to be back for the birth."

Two tinges of pink blossomed on either side of Deke's long face. He scratched one of them absently.

"I'd say two moons since—you know—" He shot a covert glance at Meya, then averted his eyes and shrugged. Meya snorted.

"—you guys last shagged. Yeah." She finished for him, and Deke chuckled through his embarrassment, tasting the sour tang of the snark returning to her squashed voice.

Bracing her hands on the rough log, Meya leaned back and tilted her head to the sky, where the first constellations had just peeked out from lazily drifting sheets of dark, powder-blue-gray clouds.

Unless she had misremembered, the twinkling yellow star was said to be the light reflected from the forehead-horn of Gyrinae, the fabled water dragon terrorizing the seas around Everglen.

"But, frankly, I guess I'd always thought I'd rather it was you than the other lads. I just never dreamed it would actually happen." She professed with a faint smile and a shrug, then added as Gyrinae's light blinked down at her as if in response, "She's deeper than I thought."

"Well, she's Marinia, the blue ocean." Deke agreed, brown eyes clouded with admiration and adoration for his until recently secret love, "Her heart's as deep as it is wide."

Meya couldn't help agreeing at that. She realized she no longer minded that Deke had that look of cherishing in his eyes as he thought of her sister. And she realized she did not mind that much, anymore, about Dad not being here for her today.

She would have the chance, someday. Like Jason said, it wasn't that Meya's need wouldn't ever be enough for Dad to care, but now, it was Marin who needed Dad more than she did.

Marin had always put her little sisters' needs before hers. Perhaps it was time for Meya to be the big sister for once.